


Happy Happy Turkey Day

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Thanksgiving falls just weeks after Haley's murder, and Hotch is falling apart.  BAU to the rescue!
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Happy Happy Turkey Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I literally just spit this out this morning after I threw our turkey in the oven. The original "100" episode aired around Thanksgiving, so I took some liberties with timing here - indulge a tired old lady whose heart breaks every time she watches The Slave of Duty, Hotch and Rossi out on that veranda during the funeral, then the team having to leave the funeral for a case and Hotch just standing there all alone. There are so many points where he's just all alone, but that one kills me, and inspired a Turkey Day angst story. Also, I'm listening to Nine Inch Nails so that doesn't help.

“Daddy?” Jack asked, peeking into his father's dark bedroom. The afternoon sunlight was trying desperately to break through the blinds and curtains, bathing small patches of the carpet and walls with it's glow. Hotch opened his eyes and squinted toward the doorway. 

“Jack?” he mumbled, forcing himself to sit up in bed. His body ached with exhaustion, his bones creaked like old wood floors. He still wasn't sleeping at night. Or during the day. He couldn't remember the last time he really slept.

“I home!” Jack squealed, leaping up onto the bed and tackling his father. Hotch let out a sore groan but hugged his son tight against him. Jessica stood in the doorway smiling, her arms folded across her chest. 

“He ate some of the food we made, but he mostly just wanted to come home so we had pie and came back. I brought you a plate, it's in the fridge...Aaron you have to eat, ok?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, ruffling his fingers in his son's hair. He wasn't sure when he'd last eaten, it may have been days at this point aside from coffee, it hadn't concerned him. It still didn't. 

“I'm serious. Eat something. It's Thanksgiving, you're obligated as an American citizen to _eat_ , it's the only thing we do today.” Jessica was glaring at him from the doorway now, and he nodded in submission. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied softly, not wanting to argue in front of Jack. She smiled at him and said her goodbyes, leaving the two Hotchner boys alone in their big, quiet haunted house. 

“Daddy eat,” Jack chirped, dashing off of the bed and into the hallway. Hotch listened to the soft padding of Jack's little feet on the floor, running into his bedroom and around and around, jumping off of his bed – obviously he'd had more than just one piece of pie. Hotch lay back in bed for a moment, trying to gather the strength to get up – Jessica had taken Jack for the week, and Hotch was fairly sure he'd spent nearly the entire time in bed without realizing it. It had been only a few weeks since Foyet and Haley, Jessica and the rest of Haley's family had been saints with Jack, but he knew he needed to get it together. 

“Daddy! Somebody at the door!” Jack yelled from down the hallway, snapping Hotch back to reality. He heard the doorbell ringing and sighed, wondering who would be showing up at his house on Thanksgiving. Jessica wouldn't knock, she had a key. Slowly, he slid out of bed and wrapped his robe around himself – he'd been wearing the same sweatpants and tshirt for days now, so he tried to cover it up and pretend he had any sort of care for himself or his own well-being. He glanced at the clock on his way down the stairs, it was 3pm and he was just crawling out of bed for the first time that day...new record. His knees popped as he descended the stairs, his muscles crying out at their sudden need to move. The doorbell rang again and he struggled with the desire to actually answer it or just go back to bed, but began pulling at the chain and clicking the deadbolts one by one. He'd had extra locks installed, that's something he'd done recently – couldn't say he'd done nothing with his time. 

“Hotch!” came Reid's excited voice as the door opened. Hotch regarded the faces of his team before him, each of them dressed to the nines in their Sunday best, even Reid who had a turkey print sweater and a hat in the shape of a turkey. Hotch glanced down briefly and noted Reid's socks, mismatched brown and yellow, and cracked his first smile in what felt like forever. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Hotch asked, opening his door wide to let them in – he was afraid they'd stampede through the door regardless of whether he opened it or not, he may as well get out of the way. “Don't you have families?”

Dave slid his arm around Hotch's shoulders and walked him to a private corner of the room, his voice soft and gentle. The rest of the team took boxes of food and drinks to the kitchen and began unpacking their Thanksgiving meal. JJ had gone upstairs to grab Jack and tell him that Will would be bringing Henry soon enough to play with him. “Well, they all thought that you needed this family today,” he whispered. “I had some reservations. But...seeing you now...smelling you now...I don't disagree. Come with me.” 

Dave lead Hotch up the stairs, his hand falling to the small of his friend's back, gently guiding him back into his bedroom. “We already cooked all of the food – we'll set the table and keep Jack busy, you take a shower, shave, do what you need to do.”

“Dave, I - “ Aaron began, his stormy eyes pleading with his friend for mercy. He wasn't ready for any of this, didn't want any of this, he just wanted his blankets and pillows. “I had all week to shower but I don't...” he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, he knew how pathetic it was going to sound and he just couldn't. 

“What is it?” Dave asked, standing so close now. Aaron looked like he was teetering on the edge of darkness, struggling to keep his eyes focused and open. His features were drawn, his skin pallid and sickly, up close Dave was mortified by what he saw. It was like a ghost of the person he loved. 

“It's stupid. Never mind. I'll go take a shower.”

“Aaron,” Dave said softly, “What's the matter? How can I help?”

Aaron couldn't tell Dave that when he showered, he had to take his clothes off and when he took his clothes off he had to look at what Foyet had done to him, he had to touch what Foyet had done to him and every scar burned under his touch like it was happening again, over and over. He'd gotten past it for so long, but it was all back, it was worse this time, these phantom paintings of agony on his skin. How could he explain that scars burned like flames? How could he explain how the sight of his own body made him sick? Dave was looking at him with those sweet, gentle eyes so full of love and wisdom, and Aaron couldn't say any of these words out loud. 

“Will you just...will you wait here?” Aaron asked, finally willing himself to say something. Anything. Something to kill the silence and the expectation of some confession he could never make, even to the person he trusted more than anyone else in the world. Dave nodded and seated himself on Aaron's bed quietly while Aaron grabbed some clothes from his closet and headed into the bathroom. He watched the way Aaron moved like living hurt, like breathing was hard and he could feel his heart breaking. The team had been doing their best to keep it together without him and keep tabs on how he was doing, but it was pretty clear to Dave that they needed to do better. He listened as Aaron got into the shower, watched the steam begin to pour out from the crack under the door and waited. 

“Hey, whatcha doing?” Emily asked from the doorway, peeking inside. Dave looked up at her and shrugged. 

“He's taking a shower, asked me to wait for him...we'll be down in a few minutes.”

“Ohhhh..kaayyyyy...” Emily muttered, shaking her head in confusion. “Men are so weird.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dave asked, his eyebrows raising in shock. 

“It _means_ that he obviously doesn't want to be alone so why are you out here instead of _in there_?”

Dave opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to figure out what to say but no sound was coming out. She laughed at him, which just made it worse. 

“Emily...” he said, aghast. “It isn't that simple. His wife was just murdered, he just killed a man with his bare hands...”

“Yeah? So? It was his ex-wife, first of all, and second of all he's clearly crying in there and if you don't go in there then I will. He doesn't want to admit that he needs people but we know he does, _especially you, you idiot, so get in there now_.”

Dave put his hands up in the air in a show of surrender and stood up, shaking his head at Emily and her all-knowing-too-smart-for-her-own-good smile. “Get out of here,” he snapped, leaning over and tapping the door closed on her before heading into the bathroom. The shower was still running, but Aaron was standing in the middle of the room, dripping with a towel around his waist and staring into the mirror, his features swollen and wet from crying. Dave turned the shower off before reaching out and placing his hand on Aaron's back softly, so gently, taking in the sight of all those scars. They looked so angry, so raised when they were hot and wet, and suddenly Dave was putting it together. 

“I'm sorry, I had no idea,” Dave muttered, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Aaron shook his head and just stared sadly into the mirror at his disfigured chest. 

“It's stupid,” Aaron muttered, reaching for the shirt he'd brought in and slipping it over his head. Dave reached out and stopped him for a moment, his fingers coming in softly against one of the scars. Aaron whimpered at the touch, but didn't force Dave to stop, the more he slid his fingers on the raised scars, the less it seemed to burn. 

“No, it's not,” Dave replied quietly, finally reaching up to help pull the other man's shirt down over his chest, covering the map of scars. “It's not stupid.”

Aaron stood in silence for a long time before he began to slip into the rest of his clothes, Dave just standing silently beside him, saying nothing but just being there. It was enough. 

…................

The table was set with more food than 50 people would need, and there were pumpkins everywhere – so many that Aaron wondered whether Reid had them brought in a separate vehicle directly from a pumpkin patch. 

“Halloween leftovers!” Reid exclaimed, picking up one particularly warty little pumpkin and setting it on his shoulder happily. “I couldn't let them go yet.”

“You had all of these in your apartment?” Aaron asked, cocking an eyebrow at the younger man and shaking his head. Reid nodded quickly, hardly registering that Aaron may be mocking him in some way. 

“Oh yeah, all of them. These are just the ones that made it, I had jack-o-lanterns that had to be tossed though, they don't last. Some of these are gourds that'll last until Spring under the right conditions.”

Hotch just shook his head and smiled a little, walking through the room into the kitchen to find the rest of the team entertaining Jack and Henry with a rousing game of hide and seek in plain sight. 

“Daddy! It's Baby Henry!”

“I see that, buddy. Are you being nice?”

“Yeah!” Jack hollered, rushing around the kitchen making train noises which made Henry erupt in baby giggles that filled the entire room. Hotch smiled at JJ as best he could, he felt like he was just a big blob of sadness and pain parading around in a human suit but he was trying. JJ gave Hotch a small hug, awkward and gentle but she meant well. 

“How are you?” she asked, and he just shrugged and stayed quiet, forcing himself to hold the same smile. It was now frozen in place and completely fake. He was genuinely trying, but he felt like a pile of walking garbage and he knew it showed. 

“Daddy hide and seek! Find me!” Jack called, hiding in plain sight on the side of the fridge. Aaron felt his breath seize in his chest, panic swirling in his stomach as his mind flashed relentlessly through imagines from the last time he'd played hide and seek with Jack. He reached out to steady himself against the counter but forced a smile. 

“Ready or not, here I come...” he muttered, trying to hold himself together with the tattered threads of whatever strength he still possessed. He peeked around a few places before poking his head around the side of the fridge. 

“Got you,” he said softly and Jack took off squealing again – he'd have to have a word with Jessica about whatever was in that pie she'd let him have. 

“Aaron!” Dave called, motioning for the other man to come to him in the dining room, and Aaron followed the request without complaint. He had no fight in him, he was the walking dead. He shuffled out of the kitchen, ruffling Jack's hair on the way, and stopped in front of Dave, folding his arms protectively over his chest. He reached up and rubbed at his sore, tired eyes with one hand, hoping that if he pressed hard enough they might stay open a bit longer. 

“They know you're sad, you don't need to pretend you're not.” Dave looked into Aaron's eyes, feeling the depth of his sadness and anger. Hurt was pouring out of him, crashing all around him like waves, but he still stood there inside of it all and tried to smile through it for everyone else. 

“It's Thanksgiving, I don't think they're here to see me have a breakdown, Dave,” Aaron pleaded, his voice low, barely audible. 

“No, they're just here to see you, whatever that means, wherever you are.”

“It's not that easy,” Hotch protested, his shoulders sagging. He looked so tired and so lost. 

“I'm so sorry, Aaron,” Dave whispered, pulling the other man in for a hug. He felt Aaron's arms wrap around him, timid at first, but after a moment he gave in and reciprocated the hug, letting himself melt into Dave. 

“I thought I was helping by giving you space...” He felt Aaron shake a little against him, tears soaking through his crisp linen shirt and he held tighter. Emily leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching them for a moment before flashing a sad smile and giving Dave a thumbs up, her approval that he was finally doing something right he supposed. He nodded in return, mouthing _thank you_ back at her – he owed her that much. He pressed his face into Aaron's hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head and held him tighter. 

“I don't know how to do this,” Aaron whispered into Dave's chest, trying to steady his ragged breaths. “I don't know how to do any of this alone.”

“You don't have to,” Dave replied, pushing Aaron away for a moment to look at him, hands still on the other man's arms. Their eyes locked and Dave smiled, just a little ghost of a smile. “I'm not leaving this time. Jessica called and asked if I would come and stay with you and Jack for a while, she was worried and since she can't be here all the time she asked if I would.”

“Jessica called you?” Aaron asked, his mind reeling around everything that meant, but he watched as Dave just nodded and held onto him, pulling him back into the hug. 

“She did. She was worried about you because she loves you. You are not doing this alone. Now...” Dave paused for a moment, squeezing Aaron lightly. “That food in there is begging to be eaten. You and I can talk more later, you can try to kick me out, whatever you want...but let's just go eat with our wild, loud, beautiful family.”


End file.
